something to confide in her.

"Jane," said Billie, "have you ever been in love?"

Jane Hubbard knocked the ash off her cigarette.

"Not since I was eleven," she said in her deep musical voice. "He was my
music-master. He was forty-seven and completely bald, but there was an
appealing weakness in him which won my heart. He was afraid of cats, I
remember."

Billie gathered her hair into a molten bundle and let it run through her
fingers.

"Oh, Jane!" she exclaimed. "Surely you don't like weak men. I like a man
who is strong and brave and wonderful."

"I can't stand brave men," said Jane, "it makes them so independent. I
could only love a man who would depend on me in everything. Sometimes,
when I have been roughing it out in the jungle," she went on rather
wistfully, "I have had my dreams of some gentle clinging man who would
put his hand in mine and tell me all his poor little troubles and let me
pet and comfort him and bring the smiles back to his face. I'm beginning
to want to settle down. After all there are other things for a woman to
do in this life besides travelling and big-game hunting. I should like
to go into Parliament. And, if I did that, I should practically have to
marry. I mean, I should have to have a man to look after the social end
of life and arrange parties and receptions and so on, and sit
ornamentally at the head of my table. I can't imagine anything jollier
than marriage under conditions like that. When I came back a bit done up
after a long sitting at the House, he would mix me a whisky-and-soda and
read poetry to me or prattle about all the things he had been doing
during the day.... Why, it would be ideal!"

Jane Hubbard gave a little sigh. Her fine eyes gazed dreamily at a smoke
ring which she had sent floating towards the ceiling.

"Jane," said Billie. "I believe you're thinking of somebody definite.
Who is he?"

The big-game huntress blushed. The embarrassment which she exhibited
made her look manlier than ever.

"I don't know his name."

"But there is really someone?"

"Yes."

"How splendid! Tell me about him."

Jane Hubbard clasped her strong hands and looked down at the floor.

"I met him on the Subway a couple of days before I left New York. You
know how crowded the Subway is at the rush hour. I had a seat, of
course, but this poor little fellow--_so_ good-looking, my dear! he
reminded me of the pictures of Lord Byron--was hanging from a strap and
being jerked about t